How Could You?
by Frank-da-rabbit
Summary: First attempt at a LM fic. Miranda's mad at Lizzie for leaving the group, and Lizzie's upset that she can't come back. *Chp 2: Miranda's POV*
1. Lizzie

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own the Lizzie McGuire cast. *pout* But I have worked out a rent to borrow deal with an anonymous man at the loverly office of Disney. If you don't know him, then I claim nothing.  
  
A/N: This is my first attempt at a Lizzie McGuire fanfic, please no flames, they will not be tolerated. Happy reading, and please, REVIEW!!!  
  
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"How could you?" she asked, staring at me somberly. I wanted desperately to answer her, but I couldn't form any words.  
  
"How could you leave me? I'm all alone now. Now that you're gone. I don't know what to do without you. How can I go on?" She continued to stare at me, desperate for an answer. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and her hands were trembling. 'I'm sorry,' I thought, still unable to form even a whimper. Even if I could, would she be able to understand why I left? I don't think she would.  
  
"Talk to me! Just fucking talk to me! Please, just once before I leave, before I move. That's right, McGuire, I'm moving." There was a short pause. She chuckled to herself, then continued. "My parents say it's not healthy for me here. I need to get over everything that's happened." I blink a couple times before I absorb everything. 'Moving? She's, she's moving?' I question no one in particular. She sighs, defeated, and begins to talk again. "You're so selfish, McGuire. So fucking selfish. I did everything for you. I always agreed with you. God, I was always in your shadow. Huh, I was a shadow, and you never seemed to care."  
  
"I cared, really, I did," I say, barely audible, once I'm able to form the words. She seems unfazed, and continues in her venting.  
  
"I was always there to lend support for you while you had some spotlight shinning down on you, while I sat behind the drawn curtains. Damn you Lizzie. You left me alone, how can I continue to live? How can a shadow stay on the wall if the light is off? Or if the body is in a dark corner? Why? That's all I want to know."  
  
"You were more than a shadow. You really were. You were your own person, in you dress, in your thoughts. You only helped me, not much more. You didn't devote your whole entire life to me. I didn't want to leave, really, I just had to. Please you have to believe me," I plead, looking into her dark brown eyes. She didn't respond, or even acknowledge that I said anything. She just continued. I knew she wouldn't understand. There was no way to make her, it was impossible.  
  
"Why did you leave me and Gordo? Poor Gordo. Do you know what this is doing to him?"  
  
"Miranda, please," I said, trying to get her away from Gordo. I couldn't stand thinking about him. He was the reason I left, unintentionally of course. He didn't know how I felt, and when I finally told him, he said it was too late. He had already fallen for Parker Mackenzie. How stupid was I to think that he'd hang on me forever? Pretty stupid. Miranda finally stopped pacing, and stared at me hard. She blinked and suddenly broke down crying.  
  
"Miranda, don't cry," I say, making no move to comfort her. I don't know what else to do, I don't know how she would react if I touched her. Finally I give in and put my arms around her. I feel her tense up, and sigh. 'At least she didn't push away.' I think as I start to stroke her hair. I start to whisper comforting words to her and she slowly begins to calm down. After awhile she sits down, and I let go. She's not looking at me now, but continues to stare at my previous potition.  
  
"It's a lovely day, your favorite kind of day," she whispers solemnly.  
  
"Yeah, nice and sunny. At least that's how I used to like the days, before my depression," I answer back, smiling a bit. She smiles, too.  
  
"I knew you liked the sun, but I know how much you like those clouds and rain now. I liked you before the depression, but I was still there for you. You just didn't need me anymore. You were in the dark, and in the dark there is no need for your shadow." A bitter-sweet smile crossed her tear stained face as she said the last comment.  
  
"Yeah, rain is good. Is your favorite day still the cloudy ones, too?" I ask, crossing my arms and looking to the sky.  
  
"Gordo is really messed up. He hates himself, and swears it's all his fault that you're gone. I know it's not really his fault, and try to tell him. But he just closes himself off in his room. Doesn't take my calls, or anyone's for that matter. He keeps waiting for you to call, or come over, or something. But I know you won't, you can't come back." She confesses, closing her eyes.  
  
"I want to come back, you know that, right? I'm sorry for leaving. Can you ever forgive me?" I ask, looking back to her.  
  
"I brought you flowers, your favorite," she says placing the white daisies at my feet. I don't move to pick them up. I don't want flowers. I want an answer. She won't answer me though, she never does when she comes here in a frenzy like she did today.  
  
"Why can't you just talk to me Lizzie?" She suddenly asks, barely audible, but I hear her. "Why can't you just fucking answer me?! I just want to talk to you. Say something, anything." A tear runs down her cheek, but she wipes it away before more can come. I look at her.  
  
"I'm sorry," I whisper. She sighs, and takes in a deep breath.  
  
"Goodbye, Elizabeth Brooke McGuire. I know you don't need your shadow anymore. I'm sorry for what I did, for what Gordo did. I wish you could have just forgiven us before you left. Before you took the easy way out. I love you, always will. I'm sorry," she says hugging her arms around her shivering body.  
  
"Miranda, don't leave me. I'll miss you to much," I plead again, putting my head in my hands.  
  
"I'll miss you," she says getting up to go. I want to stop her, to throw my arms around her, to talk to her. But I can't, she won't understand, she won't respond. She doesn't see me anymore, no one does. I'm all alone, by myself. There is no going back to them. Not her, not my family. Not Gordo. Never. I'm doomed to be here in misery and darkness. I sigh and look up at Miranda's retreating form, and I can't help but smile. She was a great friend.  
  
"I forgive you," I whisper into the wind, hoping that by some miracle the small breeze will make it passed her ears. I see her pause in mid stride, and before I can even blink again, she moves on, never once looking back.  
  
HOW DID YOU LIKE IT? Please, tell me by REVIEWING!  
  
A/N: The next chapter will be Miranda's point of view, and a lot more explaining on outbursts and such. 


	2. Miranda

Disclaimer: Still, I own nothing. But I do steal everything. If you sue, you get my precious lint and straw collection. Do you really want to take my world?  
  
A/N: This is the same moment, only through Miranda's eyes. In this chapter, there is a lot more explaining to the confusion of the first chapter. Happy reading, and please, REVIEW!!!  
  
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"How could you?" I ask, staring blankly ahead of me. I know she won't answer, she can't. She never does, and never will. Not now, not ever. I continue with my rant, trying desperately to keep my unshed tears in tow.  
  
"How could you leave me? I'm all alone now. Now that you're gone. I don't know what to do without you. How can I go on?" I cry, looking down at my shaky hands. This was goodbye, I knew it would be. Not like the last goodbye, not like the hurtful one. This was like a closure to it all, a final door on my troubled thoughts and past, being slammed shut.  
  
"Talk to me! Just fucking talk to me! Please, just once before I leave, before I move. That's right, McGuire, I'm moving." I laugh quietly to myself, kind of a bitter laugh. I didn't want to leave. Everything I loved was here. Gordo, my best and only friend was here, I couldn't leave him, but they were making me. He wouldn't survive without me, he couldn't survive without me, but they didn't understand that. "My parents say it's not healthy for me here. I need to get over everything that's happened." I guess in a way it's not healthy for me here. I was sort of going crazy, thinking that I could hear voices. Her voice, mostly.  
  
"You're so selfish, McGuire. So fucking selfish. I did everything for you. I always agreed with you. God, I was always in your shadow. Huh, I was your shadow, and you never seemed to care," I pause, thinking I heard her voice. But that's impossible, so I continue. "I was always there to lend support for you while you had some spotlight shinning down on you, while I sat behind the drawn curtains. Damn you Lizzie. You left me alone, how can I continue to live?" I absently rub my scarred wrist, she made me do this, but at the same time, didn't. She didn't know that her departure would bring so much pain to me. "How can a shadow stay on the wall if the light is off? Or if the body is in a dark corner? Why? That's all I want to know." I swear I can hear her lecturing me, almost like she's standing next to me. But I know that's crazy, everyone tells me she can't talk anymore. Dead people can't talk. I know it's true, but I still can hear her inside my head saying things like, 'You're more than a shadow, Miranda,' and 'You are your own person.' She always said things like that. Up until her depression kicked in, and she went and offed herself.  
  
"Why did you leave me and Gordo? Poor Gordo. Do you know what this is doing to him?" I asked in rage, pacing back and forth. I stopped, though, and stared at the tombstone in front of me. I knew she was upset over Gordo and Parker. She loved him. He loved her. 'It's just not fair!' I scream inside my head. She didn't have to die. I loved her damnit. I felt my eyes tear up again, and I blinked furiously to stop the tears, but it didn't help. I broke down, I couldn't help it anymore. Why now? I hadn't cried when I found her lifeless body, I hadn't cried when we buried her, and I hadn't cried on the many occasions that I had come to yell at her grave. In the midst of my breakdown I feel a slight pressure on my shoulders, and instinctively tense up. I'm very jumpy nowadays, ever since they put me on the medicine for my "psychotic episodes." Or basically when I "hear" Lizzie's "voice." Even when I feel this strange pressure, I can't stop crying and I can't move, I feel comfortable, like someone's holding me and telling me everything going to be alright. God, I really must be crazy if I'm feeling things now instead of just hearing them.  
  
After a good five minuets, I finally calm myself down, and move to sit. I continue to stare in front of me, taking in the small lettering over and over again. 'Elizabeth Brooke McGuire. 1989-2005. A precious daughter, and a wonderful friend.' It shouldn't be written, not today. She shouldn't have to be lying six feet under, letting worms devour her body, not leaving any room for her beautiful soul. Not on a beautiful day like this.  
  
"It's a lovely day, your favorite kind of day," I whisper sadly, smiling a little. "I knew you liked the sun, but I know how much you like those clouds and rain now. I liked you before the depression, but I was still there for you. You just didn't need me anymore. You were in the dark, and in the dark there is no need for your shadow," I say, letting a bitter- sweet smile cross over my delicate features  
  
I start to look around, taking in the warmth of the sun. She loved this time of year. I remember this one time, before the pain, before the depression, before everything. I guess it was a time when we were innocent. We were out by the small river, outside of Gordo's grandma's house, and we were playing tag. Just running and laughing and having fun. Having so much fun. That is, until I fell in the water. I remember not being able to breath, it felt like hours of struggle just to get air. Then something grabbed me and pulled me to shore. I opened my eyes, and Lizzie was breathing hard and soaking wet. She had dived in for me. She had risked her life to save me. I could have lived in that moment forever. I probably do, somewhere in my head. I don't know why I held on to that moment so well, I guess it was because that was the moment when I realized that Lizzie was truly my best friend. I always remember her worried face as she asked if I was okay, and I answered yes. And every time I replayed that moment, I always answered yes. But shortly after her death, I began to answer no, and sometimes found myself screaming it aloud. That's why my parents are scared, they think I'm crazy for answering a damn memory. They expect me to forget Lizzie and move on, but how can I? It's only been two years since the 'incident,' and neither Gordo nor I have forgotten. It's kind of hard to forget when every time you close your eyes you see the lifeless body of your best friend lying in a pool of her own blood. And it's even harder to forget if you rejected her the night before she killed herself.  
  
"Gordo is really messed up. He hates himself, and swears it's all his fault that you're gone. I know it's not really his fault, and try to tell him. But he just closes himself off in his room. Doesn't take my calls, or anyone's for that matter. He keeps waiting for you to call, or come over, or something. But I know you won't, you can't come back," I say aloud, voicing some of my concerns. Gordo is taking it a lot harder than I am. He's been in and out of the hospital for suicide attempts. I mean, I've been in the hospital a couple of times, but at least it's not every other weekend. He even lost Parker, she had dumped him, said she couldn't deal with all the depression, but he didn't care, he didn't even respond to her and she stormed out. His parents are trying to get him committed, saying it's not healthy to hold on to grief for so long, but he can't seemed to let go. I'm the only one he talks to, and that's only if I come over. He confesses all his guilt, and I try to assure him that it's not his fault, it's mine. No matter what anyone says, it is all my fault.  
  
I place my hand on the ground and feel something underneath my palm. I smile when I remember what I brought. The flowers. Her favorite kind. White daisies. The flowers that reminded her of sunny, happy days. Days of innocence. I finger the flowers softly, and look back at the tombstone.  
  
"I brought you flowers, your favorite," I say, placing the flowers at the foot of the stone. I want to talk to her one more time, I want to apologize for what I did. For everything I did in my entire life, but I know she won't answer. At least I think she won't. I just want her to answer, I need her to answer. Why can't she just talk to me?  
  
"Why can't you just talk to me Lizzie?" I say, barely above a whisper. That's the only question I want answered. "Why can't you just fucking answer me?! I just want to talk to you. Say something, anything." I feel a stray tear fall down my face, but quickly wipe it away before more can come. I don't want to cry again. It hurts too much. I take in a loud, shaky breath, and stare again at her final resting-place.  
  
I need closure, and I need it now. I want to get her voice out of my head. It keeps repeating what she said that night, right before she left me to go to the bathroom. I was over at her house, and she was crying about Gordo rejecting her. I sat, holding her, saying that she needed to get over it, that it wasn't the worst thing to happen, and that it's not like she was dead or anything. She smiled a sad, yet peaceful smile, got up, and said, 'You're right Miranda. I'm not dead. Not yet.' I smiled back, and congratulated her on getting over it. She laughed solemnly and left for the bathroom. I sat there like an idiot for about ten minutes, and feeling uneasy, called out to her. When she didn't answer, I was slightly freaked out. I tried to open the bathroom door, but it was locked. So I picked it, and opened it about five minutes later. There she was, dead. I don't know why she had died so fast, but she did. I guess she just really wanted out that badly. And it was my fault. I was so cruel, so uncaring. I remember so much of that night, before she died, and afer she died, but not much of when I found her. All I can recall are screams. Matt's, Mrs. and Mr. McGuire's, and mostly, mine. Never a tear, but a lot of screams. It was almost like my voice had crawled from my throat, and was dancing around the room, almost as if it were mocking me.  
  
I need to get all of this out of my head. I need her voice to stop echoing inside me, that voice that is slowly driving me crazy. I need peace, like the peace she had when she smiled at me. Yes, I need all of that, and there's only one way to get it.  
  
"Goodbye, Elizabeth Brooke McGuire. I know you don't need your shadow anymore. I'm sorry for what I did, for what Gordo did. I wish you could have just forgiven us before you left. Before you took the easy way out. I love you, always will. I'm sorry," I hug my self, trying to avoid the coldness that doesn't really exist. Her voice stopped.  
  
"I'll miss you," I say quietly, standing up to leave. As I walk away I thought I heard someone, no not someone, her, say that she forgave me, and I pause momentarily. My mind rushes back to that summer. The summer where she saved me. Her lips move, and the words come out, 'Are you okay, Miranda?'  
  
"Yes," I say aloud, with a sad, yet peaceful smile plastered on my face. I quickly move on, never once looking back.  
  
*Did this tie everything together? If it is still confusing, tell me, and I can work out the bugs. Also, I was thinking of maybe making this into a whole story, everything that happened that night, and before, and what happened after Rome, even. What do you think? What? I can't hear you, maybe you should just try REVIEWING to tell me.Yeah, I think that'll work. 


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